


A Far Away, but Friendly Voice

by mizface



Series: Nature Boy [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale, due South
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, M/M, Trope Bingo Round 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-12-20 06:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/883796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’ve met someone!” Cecil exclaimed happily.  “That is a good reason to risk causing a tear in the trans-dimensional void with a phone call.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Far Away, but Friendly Voice

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank yous to the wondrous akamine_chan and omens for beta reading and hand-holding.
> 
> No specific spoilers, but I'd place this after Episode 25 of WtNV.

Cecil blinked in surprise when his phone rang. It wasn’t that he was getting a call that caught him off guard; he was, he blushed to admit, somewhat well known in Night Vale, and as a public servant he often got calls about possible news items, or items of interest, or occasionally curses and random chanting, which he of course forwarded to the Sheriff’s Secret Police.

No, it was the ringtone of this particular call that had his eyes widening in shock and then delight. He reached for the phone, smiling broadly as he answered. “Renfield! I didn’t know you were back in Night Vale.” He thought for a moment. “I didn’t know you _could_ come back to Night Vale, at least not when the Void is in this particular configuration.”

“Hello to you, too, Cecil,” Renfield answered. Cecil could hear the smile in his cousin’s voice, and only partially because it was whispering happy nothings in the background. “I’m actually still in Chicago.”

“So that’s why the howling by Mission Grove Park has gotten louder,” Cecil said with a nod. Inter-city calls always caused a stir. “I’d wondered what had the cacti riled up. I should have known what it was, but the normal accompanying moans were either absent, or at a sub-vocal pitch.”

“So there have been some improvements, then,” Renfield laughed. “Good to know. And it’s good to talk to you. I listen to your show, of course, but it isn’t the same.”

Cecil felt himself warm at the thought that even so far, so very far away, his cousin still listened to his broadcasts. That even though he’d left their wonderful little town, he tried to stay connected to it, and used Cecil’s show as the auditory tether, tying him to them and them to him, inextricably looping to wind them together in a noose-like fashion, though less constricting or deadly. For the most part.

“Well then, you must be the one with news. If you’ve listened to my show, you know everything there is to know about the goings on in Night Vale.”

Renfield obviously recognized a leading statement when he heard one. “And how is Carlos?” 

“ _Perfect_ ,” Cecil sighed blissfully. And he was. And they were. Well, Carlos was. Cecil, of course, could never hope to attain the perfection that seemed to be Carlos’s natural state of being, but he imagined that, in the aura of Carlos’s perfection, he was, himself, a little bit better of a person.

“And how has he reacted to our more… unique family traits?” Renfield asked. His voice was soft and hesitant, and a lightbulb went off in Cecil’s mind. Not literally; all electrical devices had been removed from his person years ago. Or so he’d been told by the Sheriff’s Secret Police, and that meant it had to be true.

“You’ve met someone!” Cecil exclaimed happily. “That is a good reason to risk causing a tear in the trans-dimensional void with a phone call.” He sat back in his chair. “Sooo. Tell me all about her. Or him. Or whatever accepted gender pronoun the object of your affections prefers.”

“Her name is Francesca,” Renfield said. “I met her through work, in a way, though we don’t work together.”

“That’s exactly how Carlos and I met!” Cecil exclaimed brightly, then reined in his enthusiasm and did not go into more detail. After all, Renfield knew that. Everyone who listened to his broadcasts did. “Go on.”

“She’s delightful,” Renfield said. “Sweet and funny and kind. And she has a fondness for Canadians.”

“Well that’s certainly helpful, though I’m sure you would have charmed her either way. You’re quite the catch you know. Or would be, if you weren’t so darn slippery.”

“I’ve gotten much better at controlling that,” Renfield told him, pride clear in his voice. 

“Of _course_ you have,” Cecil agreed with a smile. “You were always so resourceful. I was quite jealous of you growing up, you know. _Look at Renfield,_ my family would say. _So quick to ooze._ ” He chuckled at the recollection. 

“Well, that wasn’t always a good thing,” Renfield replied. “But it is part of why I called. Like I said before, I’ve been following your show and I know Carlos isn’t from Night Vale. And since Frannie – she prefers that to Francesca – well, since she’s never even heard of Night Vale, she’s never been exposed to its citizens or our quirks. I’m quite concerned as to how she’ll take certain aspects of my physiology.”

“Has she seen your -”

“No,” Renfield interrupted. “None of it.” He cleared his throat. “We aren’t quite to that stage of our relationship yet.”

“Ah, well that makes perfect sense. Though I must remind you, since Carlos does know about Night Vale, has lived here long enough for compulsory honorary citizenship, in fact, and since he is a scientist, and of course since he’s perfect… well, it was only natural that he accepts me for all that I am. And am not.” He stopped a moment, then went ahead and added. “And of course, the fact that I’m a fascinating test subject – that’s his pet name for me – well, that doesn’t hurt.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, interspersed with the clicks of the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s recording devices and the simultaneously bone-chilling and heart-warming whispers of the Void. But Cecil knew the value of silence; he waited patiently. After a minute, Renfield spoke.

I suppose there’s nothing to do but tell her,” he sighed. He didn’t sound at all as certain of his path as his words suggested. “After all, it isn’t like I’m going to change. Not without specific environmental and chemical triggers.”

“Renfield? If I might say something about this, from as someone who’s been in your position? Don’t hide who you are. Be yourself. If she can’t accept you, then she isn’t the one for you. And aren’t all relationships about compromise? I’m sure there are things about her that you’ve had to accept, aren’t there?” 

“She does have a morbid obsession with holidays,” Renfield admitted, reluctance in his voice. “Especially Valentine’s Day.”

Cecil barely hid a gasp. “Okay,” he said after collecting himself. “Well, that’s certainly an unusual interest. Might take some getting used to. So there, you see? If you still want to be with her despite… _that_ , then she should be equally forgiving, don’t you think?”

He went on without waiting for a response, on a roll now. “Of course she should. After all, what’s a little gelatinous ooze or extra appendages in the face of love? And you should tell her about Night Vale. We’re your roots, after all. And your branches, and possibly a few tunnels. It seems to me that it’s a _completely metaphorical and not at all punishable_ crime that she’s never even heard of the most wonderful little town in the – that there is,” he corrected, remembering the new edict from the Town Council regarding speculation on just where Night Vale existed. A thought occurred to him. “Hey, maybe that’s the solution. Bring her here!”

“Frannie? In Night Vale?”

“Of course! I know it can’t happen right away. There are permits and chants and blood rituals, but if you get right on it, you might be able to make it for the Fourth of July parade.”

“I have missed that,” Renfield said wistfully. “The floats are spectacular. The fires here just don’t burn as bright.”

“There you go, then. Bring her here, let her see what made you the man you are. Let her see all of you, and I guarantee she won’t be able to resist you.” He let a little mischief enter his voice. “Literally, if you’d like. I’ve been working on some charms in my spare time.”

“I’ll think about it,” Renfield answered. “It would be good to see everyone again. And since I wasn’t recruited by A Vague, Yet Menacing Government Agency, I’m not outright banned from coming back, at least for short visits.” 

Cecil was pleased; his cousin sounded much more relaxed than he had at the start of their conversation. “If there’s anything I can do on my end, let me know.” he offered.

“I will. Thank you, Cecil.”

“Any time. Well, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my broadcasts, of course. Station management doesn’t take well to that.”

The line crackled loudly; sounded like their time was up, unless they wanted to cause a rip in space that could potentially let in some kind of netherworld beings. Considering they’d just had the upholstery cleaned, and netherworld creatures were notoriously sulfuric and sticky, Cecil thought it best to end the call. Even Carlos, perfect as he was, had his limits when it came to fastidiousness.

As Cecil hung up the phone, he hummed happily to himself. Oh, there would be news to report tomorrow!


End file.
